I recently spent a few days in Glasgow, Scotland, attending a conference. Glasgow is Scotland’s largest city — comparable in status to the capital Edinburgh, yet far less famous. Many people have never even heard of it. I had visited Edinburgh several times before and always came away impressed: it is a city of rich culture and unmistakable capital-city grandeur. I expected Glasgow to be the same.
What surprised me was the sheer number of homeless people I encountered on Glasgow’s streets — and the remarkably at-ease, lived-in way they carried themselves. In the city centre, every street had people sleeping rough; it was a far cry from the prosperous, developed place I had imagined. And yet these weren’t gaunt, wretched figures. They seemed oddly full of life. Over the course of a few days, I saw a man lazily combing his hair after waking up at the head of his makeshift “bed,” groups of three or five heading out together to get food, and countless others simply living quietly in some sheltered corner of the street.
Walking alone and coming across homeless people can feel a little unsettling. Would they pose a safety risk? Might they have their eyes on my wallet? The sheer number of them did take some shine off the city centre experience.
But I quickly noticed that Glasgow’s homeless community seemed to operate in its own self-contained world, coexisting quietly with passing strangers like me without any friction. Every evening, as darkness fell, a charitable organisation would set up outside Glasgow Central Station — the city’s grand gateway — distributing food and drinks. There was upbeat music, long queues of people waiting for their meals, and even large bottles of Sprite and Coke being shared around. One night, after a conference dinner, I walked past on my way back to the hotel and found myself slightly thrown off: the soft drinks we’d paid for at the dinner were being handed out here for free.
That scene brought to mind something that happened during my undergraduate years.
In my final year, a group of a hundred young Russians came to Shanghai on a visit organised by the Russian government. Our university assigned students from the Russian department — myself included — to serve as hosts and interpreters. One day, the organising team arranged for the Russian delegates to visit an anti-drug exhibition. As I walked into the exhibition hall with a group of Russian students, I noticed two homeless people lying beneath the escalator, covered in blankets — clearly they had been living there for some time. I felt embarrassed by the sight and silently criticised the organisers for not dealing with something so damaging to the city’s image when they knew foreign guests were coming. In all honesty, in four years of university in Shanghai, I hadn’t seen many homeless people at all — a testament, I thought, to the joint efforts of city management and social welfare departments.
Reflecting on it later, I realised I had been lacking in both goodwill and compassion. Compared to something as intangible as image and appearances, shouldn’t I have cared more about whether two living, breathing human beings had enough to eat and a roof over their heads? The exhibition hall, as a public space, was offering them temporary shelter from the elements — and there was something fitting about that, too.
Take another major city: New York, where the homelessness problem is even more severe. Designers there have shaped many park benches into layered, wave-like forms specifically to prevent homeless people from lying down on them. Warm air vents from the subway have been fitted with spikes, stopping people from gathering there to keep warm in winter. As if making the homeless disappear from view were the same as making their problems disappear.
Given the alternative, I would much rather see a city like Glasgow. That said, if city authorities could find better solutions for these people — ones that keep them off the streets altogether — Glasgow’s image would undoubtedly benefit as well.
Even on days when I lack the magnanimity of Du Fu, who wished for “ten thousand mansions to shelter the poor scholars of the world,” I still hope my city will hold on to its humanity on my behalf.
Translated and posted by AI, quality may vary. Original post written in Chinese by Xiaoming.